Falling Sands
by Mir
Summary: Based on a scene from the new OAV's where Kenshin and Yahiko are sparring at the dôjô following the return from Kyôto, told from Yahiko's POV.


title: Falling Sands  
rating: g  
author: Mir  
email: cathedraldragon@bigfoot.com  
website: http://ellone-loire.net/tfme/  
  
disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin was created by Watsuki Nobuhiro,   
published by Shueisha in "Jump," and produced by Sony   
Entertainment, Media Blasters, ADV, etc. I am not affiliated   
with the above names and no not write for profit.  
  
AN: This story was inspired by a scene in Seisouhen OAV I in   
which Kenshin is seen sparing with Yahiko right after the return   
to Tokyo at the end of the Kyoto Arc. Many fanfics have been   
based upon the assumption that Kenshin and Yahiko never   
sparred, so here's a little detour from the norm. *shrugs* Another   
Yahiko-introspective piece from yours truly (you could think of it   
as a quasi-sequal to "Koinobori")....  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
*Falling Sands*  
  
  
The boat rocked back and forth beneath our feet as the gray smudge of   
land disappeared into the distance. Overhead, sea birds circled   
restlessly, and the air was filled with their shrill cries of hunger.   
I carefully stepped forward, still unsteady on my sea legs, my eyes   
trained on the figure before me. He stood alone at the far railing   
looking out over the water, and the wind sweeping in across the   
churning blue expanse below caught his hair and sleeves as it swept   
back up toward the clouds.   
  
We had left Kyoto as soon as he was able, but we could not leave behind   
the memories imprinted indelegably on our minds. They lingered in my   
thoughts, resurfacing briefly in flashes of emotion, then sinking once   
again back into the subconscious. I knew from experience that his   
memory is impeccable, and I wondered what the past month had been like   
for him. It had been like Hell for me. Then again, his eyes have seen   
far more than mine, far more than I ever hope to see.  
  
"Yahiko."  
  
I found myself smiling as I joined him at the railing, my hesitation   
evaporating like dew into the warm salty air. In Kyoto, it had   
frightened me to see him lying so still, so deeply asleep. If it   
hadn't been for the steady rising and falling of his chest, I would   
have thought that... perhaps it's because I've rarely seen him sleep --   
for he only seems to doze, and he wakes instantly at the slightest   
sound. I sometimes wondered whether he has always slept lightly or   
whether it's a habit ingrained by his Shishou and years of living on   
the edge of a blade, never knowing when or from which direction danger   
would strike from. I wondered, but I never thought to ask.  
  
But then his voice was steady, reassuring, strong over the sloshing of   
the waves against the sides of the boat. "It's over, Yahiko. We're   
finally returning to Tokyo." He turned to me with a gentle smile   
despite the dark smudges of fatigue that still lingered beneath his   
eyes. Like the memories, they had begun to fade, but only by the   
indomitable hand of time would they be completely erased.  
  
I found myself nodding at his words, tasting them in my mouth like a   
merchant who bites down hard upon a coin to test its integrity.   
Despite everything, or perhaps because of it, I could hardly believe   
that we truly are going home. "Kenshin..."   
  
His gaze had drifted back to the water beneath us, but he met my eyes   
as I say his name almost as though he anticipated the address before I   
inhaled the air to speak. He waited patiently for me to continue, and   
my mouth hung open as I arranged and rearranged the words in my mind.   
"Sometime, I was wondering..." I didn't know why it was so difficult to   
ask him, why I stumbled upon a request I'd made several times before.   
"...perhaps, if you wouldn't mind... could you h-help me with my   
technique...?"  
  
Even as my voice trailed off, I prepared myself for the expected response,   
the gentle negation, ever polite yet unquestionably firm -- but as the   
wind whistled across the empty deck, it never came. "It would be my   
pleasure." Kenshin, despite his perspicacity, can be annoyingly   
oblique, and it took me a moment to realize that he had paid me an   
enormous compliment, one I'd always hoped for but never truly expected.   
I didn't know whether it was he who had changed or me, but I told   
myself that either way, it didn't matter.   
  
His words caught me off-guard; I had been prepared to nod in   
resignation and nurse my wounded pride, but now there was no response   
waiting immediately on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I stared into   
his violet eyes, my mouth hanging slightly open like the beak of a   
seabird waiting for its dinner. But to his credit and to my relief, he   
neither laughed as Sano would have or teased like Kaoru. Instead, he   
turned back to the water and waited as though my silence were perfectly   
natural. Perhaps it was.  
  
And so I bowed stiffly, the gesture running more on instinct than   
conscious thought. "Thank you..." The words were, of course, inadequate,   
but what is one supposed to say when dreams fall unexpectedly from the sky?  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
When I emerged from the interior of the dojo, he was already in the   
courtyard facing the gate with his eyes closed. For a moment we stood   
like two marble statues carved by some omnipotent invisible hand.   
Around us, the world hovered -- inert, immobile -- as if the falling   
sands of time hung suspended halfway between the heavens and earth.   
  
I clenched my fingers tightly around the shinai in my hand, so tightly   
that my knuckles hurt, and the second shinai thrust through my obi   
bumped heavily against my leg. The air was still and thick over the   
yard, and I inhaled deeply, trying to coax the dust into the sky as I'd   
seen Kenshin do so effortlessly in the past; nothing happened -- but   
had I really expected it to? Then he turned, pivoting carefully, eyes   
meeting mine. "Then it's time?"  
  
I studied his features scrupulously as he walked toward me, not in   
those enormous bounding strides that can carry him across the ground   
almost faster than the eye can register, but with normal, human steps   
suited for a convalescent who's somehow managed to elude his doctor's   
watchful eye. Still, I could find no evidence of weariness in his   
gait; that inherent gracefulness I'd so often envied had replaced the   
stiff limp of before, and I scolded myself for even thinking that he'd   
risk his recovery by pushing himself too fast. I reminded myself   
sternly that as I would trust him with my life, I should trust his   
judgment as well.  
  
Wordlessly, I held the shinai out to him handle-first, and I, not   
trusting myself to meet his eyes, watched as his fingers curled around   
the handle. I knew that if I looked up I'd find his gentle smile   
hovering above me. I knew -- and yet I couldn't stop myself from   
shivering as the memory of his intense amber gaze slipped unbidden into   
my mind. No, I'd nothing to fear. Even as Battousai he wouldn't have   
hurt us. The ground, when covered by snow, is still just as solid   
beneath its thick white blanket.  
  
The sun driped down through the clouds, falling like a cloak upon my   
shoulders, and pooled in viscous puddles upon the ground. The shadows   
had begun to lengthen, but as he held the weapon before him, testing   
the unfamiliar weight in his hands, the nebulous shadow behind him was   
still shorter than his actual frame. At another time I might have   
thought of his mysterious childhood -- those years between birth and   
adulthood that I know nothing about, but then, all I could think about   
was showing him what I'd learned since we first met. I needed to prove   
to myself that all the long hours of practice had not been in vain.  
  
So we stood across from each other with only the ephemeral barrier of   
air between us, and my heart beat rapidly within my chest as I   
ruthlessly tried to chase all second thoughts from my mind. 'This is   
what I've always wanted, isn't it? Then why does my hand tremble?'   
Less than three paces from me he waited patiently, and perhaps he, too,   
was dealing silently with the doubts in his mind -- No, I wasn't afraid   
of him, not then or ever. The fear I struggled to shake from mind was   
that of failure. There was no one I want to impress more than the man   
who stood before me.  
  
After a seemingly interminable time, he softly cleared his throat,   
swallowed, and lifted his eyes to mine. Imbedded in his gaze was   
unconditional permission to back down, to put off today until some   
tomorrow in the future. But even though I was grateful for his   
consideration, in my mind, retreat was not a viable option. Myouji   
Yahiko always finishes what he begins. I nodded, and his smile   
broadened.  
  
We were not indoors, and there was no shrine to pay respects to, but he   
began the appropriate rituals, and I followed, pulling my mind back   
from the clouds and concentrating on my breathing. With his left arm   
still in a sling, his movements were somewhat awkward, but he didn't   
even appear to be stiff, so I once again reassured myself that he   
wouldn't push himself dangerously for my sake.  
  
In a matter of seconds my fears were instantly dispelled, and   
underneath tree branches smothered in dark summer leaves, we clashed   
together, shinais trembling, faces only inches apart. My sandals dug   
into the dirt as I pushed against him, but even one-handed he seemed to   
be able to hold his own. He led me confidently through Kaoru's drills   
-- and even knowing that our movements ware prescribed, just practicing   
with him as my "opponent" was, without a doubt, nothing less than   
exhilarating.  
  
And as my body began to warm to the exercise, the scenery around us   
blurred and faded. Leaves dissolved like sugar into the liquid sky,   
and the rough dirt beneath my sandals felt like yards of woven silk   
stretching onward into eternity. My body began to react instinctively   
to each attack, and I realized (on a personal level I could not have   
before) why Kenshin is one of the best swordsmen in Japan. Even   
holding a shinai instead of a live blade, his technique was flawless,   
and his movements flowed together like water cascading over a waterfall.   
I knew from observation that this was the first time he'd practiced   
since returning from Kyoto, and yet as he moved, all the pain and   
fatigue seemed to fade away -- leaving behind a younger man, one whose   
shoulders didn't sag under the weight of a nation's problems.  
  
"Let's stop for a moment," he muttered, pulling away. As we both   
dropped our hands to our sides, I was surprised to find myself winded.   
Kenshin, too, was breathing heavier than normal, and after tucking the   
shinai through his waistband, he reached up to brush the hair from his   
eyes with the back of his hand. There was a faint flush to his cheeks,   
and as his eyes traced the flight of a bird passing overhead, moist   
beads of sweat slid smoothly down my back.  
  
"It's awfully hot today, isn't it?" I nodded in response as there was   
no denying the intensity of the weather. But I could feel myself   
growing restless, and I ground my teeth together as I unconsciously   
shifted back and forth form foot to foot. Were we going to continue or   
not?  
  
"We'd better go in before Kaoru-dono begins to worry." He pivoted   
smoothly toward the porch, but I hesitated, my eyes cast down as I   
rubbed grooves in the dirt with the toe of my sandal. Was that it? I   
admitted I was somewhat relieved that no comments on my performance   
seemed to be forthcoming. I knew that I'd improved, but I didn't   
delude myself in thinking that I could win a fair fight against someone   
of his caliber.  
  
"But she doesn't even know you're out here..." Some boys have fathers   
to show them how to live their lives. Others have older brothers to   
tread the paths before them. And some have friends walk the journey   
with them side by side. I had Kenshin, who had been all three to me...   
and Kaoru -- teacher, sister, mentor... ugly hag. For two abnormally   
astute individuals, they were amazing oblivious to each other. Then   
again, the dragon and the raccoon are an unlikely pair indeed.  
  
"Then perhaps just a few minutes longer..." He breathed deeply,   
looking comfortably relaxed in the warmth of the sun, but as I nodded   
in agreement, his body stiffened, and his eyes shifted clearly toward   
the porch. From his guilty expression and the sound of approaching   
footsteps, I didn't need to look myself to confirm the presence of   
Kaoru and Megumi. I turned anyway, with reluctance, afraid that they   
would accuse me of selfishly jeopardizing Kenshin's recovery. Why are   
adults always so eager to indite the youth?  
  
"Kenshin, I think --" I didn't dare to meet Kaoru's eyes, afraid that   
she would deny permission before I even had the chance to ask.  
  
He tore his eyes away from the women and shook his head without   
hesitation. "No, let's continue --" With all his self-effacing   
politeness, one is apt to forget how intrinsically independent he truly   
is at heart. I know he cares deeply about us and about society, but at   
the end of the day, he doesn't let anyone else tell him what he ought   
to do. "-- You may attack with you're ready... and don't mind the   
audience." He pulled the shinai from his obi with a conspiratorial   
wink, and I found myself smiling at the open invitation for defiance   
against the women of the house.  
  
"I won't hold back!" Although the taunt was barely louder than a   
whisper, his eyes narrowed slightly, and he readjusted his grip. It   
was impossible to tell whether his response was genuine or merely an   
act (for my benefit), but I had no time to think, and in truth it   
didn't matter. I pushed off from the ground, rushing forward, trying   
to act first and think later, for I knew that Kenshin's strength is in   
prediction, and my only hope seemed to be catching him off-guard. Still,   
each attack was met solidly, and his footwork was clean and efficient   
compared to my unplanned scrambling.  
  
"No matter who you cross swords with, you can't divorce your mind and   
body." Suddenly his stance shifted, and he slid forward, forcing an   
attack. "Neither alone will prevail." And even as I fell back I could   
see the error in my strategy. Of course, it was obvious now, and I   
didn't need to be told twice.   
  
He neatly sidestepped the first thrust, ducked underneath the second,   
then choose to block the third. "Thought and action must come   
simultaneously, not one before the other." Again, we broke apart and   
circled warily. Kaoru and Megumi were nothing more than a blur in my   
peripheral vision, two figures like birds perched above us, all the   
while looking on. "Focus less on what you're doing and more on my   
movements; let your senses lead, and your body will follow."  
  
Once, briefly, I touched him, and he leaned back as the shinai brushed   
his arm, smiling as if to say, 'See, that's more like it.' But almost   
as quickly as it began, the match was over, and it was only from the   
scarcity of attacks on Kenshin's end that no clear victor emerged.   
Again we stood wordlessly across from each other, and if it weren't for   
the dust upon our hakama and the heaviness of our breathing, I might   
have convinced myself that it had all existed merely in my mind.  
  
The women descended upon us like anxious mothers, dark hair flying   
behind them and sharp eyes holding us captive. If I could, I would   
have take off through the yard and led Kaoru on a long, hard chase as   
I'd done so often in the past, but for some unexplainable reason, my   
feet were rooted into the ground, and I couldn't move an inch.   
  
At first both gravitated toward Kenshin who stood silent in the waning   
sunlight, seemingly lost in thought. He winced slightly at Megumi's   
touch, and she began to fuss over him, spewing doctoral jargon while   
he insistently denied all acquisitions of overexertion. And then   
apparently seeing that one situation was under control, Karou pivoted   
abruptly in my direction, and I, too, steeled myself for the inevitable   
rebuke.   
  
"You did well..." Her words hit me, and I knew it was too good to be   
true. "...for an amateur." And as she laughed and roughly patted my   
back, I debated whether or not I should let her get away with the   
(unnecessary) additive.   
  
"That you did." Having at last dismissed Megumi's concerns with a   
smile and a shake of his head, Kenshin appeared behind Kaoru, one hand   
resting absently on her shoulder. His nod was firm and deliberate, but   
despite his efforts to conceal it, I could still see that he leaned   
lightly against her for support.   
  
"...but don't let that go to your head. There's still a lot of work to   
be done -- and this dojo to clean up, mind you. Houses don't just put   
themselves back together, I'll have you know." I could see now that   
she held a broom in one hand and her sleeves were tied back behind   
her.  
  
"Well there's plenty of time now that we're all back in Tokyo..." I   
replied evasively. I knew there was no escaping the call to duty, and   
my one and only savior was the steady falling of the sun across the   
deep blue sky. I stared hopefully into the lengthening shadows.   
'Surely there isn't enough time to begin a major cleaning project is   
there?'  
  
And as if he read my thoughts, Kenshin leaned forward slightly so that   
his head hovered over Kaoru's shoulder. "Sano should be arriving any   
minute to see if dinner's been started. We can begin the repairs   
tomorrow... but let's just relax today." His voice was soothing,   
almost hypnotic, and I could see Kaoru visibly giving way to her   
concern for him. She sighed heavily, the epitome of martyrdom, and   
reached up to pat Kenshin's hand.  
  
"I suppose you're right. Very well..." And as she spoke, a subtle   
smile spread across her face, and her eyes lit up with anticipation.   
"We can watch the fireflies tonight, can't we Kenshin?" Honestly,  
I hadn't a clue why she was so enthusiastic over the fireflies, of all   
things, but I assumed that it was something just between she and   
Kenshin because his eager nod left no doubt of his agreement.   
  
Time, that intangible measure of life, was moving again, passing by   
with impersonal regard to the lives of men. In the long days of Kyoto   
it had claimed Shishio, claimed him and pulled him down to the raging   
fires of Hell -- but we had been spared, spared by the one enemy that   
no one can ever hope to defeat, spared today to live again tomorrow.   
And still the sands keep falling, falling.  
  
  
*end of falling sands*  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
This has taken me long to write that I originally thought it would!   
*Whew* I actually like the first section better than the second, but   
I've been reworking some parts of this thing for so long that I'm   
utterly sick and tired of it (even though I'm still not particularly   
satisfied with the ending). Oh well, let me know what you think.   
Many thanks to MKasshoku for pre-reading.... ^_~  
  
Next scheduled: "Ikedaya"  
Next, next scheduled: A sequel to "Parallel Minds" perhaps....  
  
- Mir (07.01.02, rev. 07.05.02)  
  
07.16.02: Have sat down and done some serious editing to this piece –   
mostly changing the tense from present to past, a suggestion from   
Calger in respect to the vocabulary used by Yahiko. I keep forgetting   
that he's only supposed to be 10... ^_~  
. 


End file.
